Things I Have Realized In The Past 365 Days
The phrases “Life is short” and "You only live once" are overused but so incredibly true.
Working seven days a week without ever taking a break surely drove me crazy. Even if it was absolutely necessary in order to pay my rent to live in a closet-sized bedroom. Even if after my day job I’d go serve beer to drunk people in hopes that in their drunken state they would overtip me. I always walked out with wads of cash. I miss those wads of cash but I enjoy my sanity and ‘me’ time even more.
I could have never survived cancer without God, my family, my friends, genius doctors and cancer researchers.
I can handle going through four surgeries within two months as long as I’m knocked out with the good stuff and given morphine afterwards. I also learned that it’s probably a good idea to not text people after being given morphine.
if you want something so badly and it’s meant to be, you will receive it. God knows the desires of your heart.
Eating pork bao's, maple walnut gelato, margherita pizza, grilled calamari, Mr. softee ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, bagels with lox, oysters and many other delectable delights may not solve all problems but they sure do help!
I could handle facing my biggest fear, needles, on a daily basis. Exposure therapy may work for some people’s phobias but not for me with needles. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m still a total whimp about them and will probably faint and/or throw up if you even TALK about getting blood drawn.
I’m not afraid of tattoo needles, obviously. I just got my seventh one and it rocks.
That this little thing called R-CHOP could competely destroy my lymphoma and give me my life back all within one year.
I still need to learn how to relax and not constantly be doing something. Wait, you mean I’m not lazy if I decide to one day to skip doing my laundry, grocery shopping, working out, etc? One day I will learn this, one day.
No matter how much I attempt to overcome my walking rage, I just cannot. Walking rage is the road rage of NYC.
That I forgot how much I love to write. I am so happy that I rediscovered my love for putting words together, it has been the best therapy.
I have had the opportunity to spend more time with my family this year than I have in years. I am truly grateful for that.
Facing the possibility of death makes you think about life in a much broader sense than you’d ever expect. I haven’t gotten it all figured out, but has anyone?
Somehow I managed to shave my head. I had no choice because my hair was coming out in clumps, but seriously, I SHAVED MY HEAD!
I am a better runner now. I am running faster and longer distances than I did before I became sick.
I just re-joined the gym and realized that I look really badass lifting weights with my short hair.
A bone marrow biopsy without any sedation is so unbelievably painful that I would suggest the U.S government use this as a torture tactic. I was probably thisclose to breaking the nurses hand from squeezing it so hard as my very attractive oncologist shoved a huge needle into my hip bone.
That I am most likely very radioactive after having countless CT scans, PET scans, MUGA scans, x-rays, and receiving chemicals intravenously. The other day I was standing directly in front of the microwave reheating my coffee, knowing it’s not the best idea but then realized that compared to everything else I’ve been exposed to, it’s probably the least of my worries. Someone should create a radioactive chemo superhero, like some cute gal in a comic book that is immune to radiation or something :)
I can somehow endure living in a hospital for three weeks straight. At least my body chose a good month to really fail me - February. Who wants to go outside in that kind of weather anyway? If this had happened in June then that’s another story!
I probably endured living in the hospital for three weeks straight because some of my doctors were really attractive. There’s nothing better than waking up from a Klonopin induced half-sleeping state while wearing my uber sexy hospital gown to have a hot doctor asking me if my nausea is under control. Okay, there are better things, but at the time the hot doctors really made my day.
I became BFF with my wig. My hair is long enough to not wear one now but I just feel like ME with it on. Maybe one day I will like having short hair, but probably not. I will probably never be one of those people proud to rock the short ‘do. Sorry I’m not sorry! I just don’t like short hair on me.
A year ago I would’ve never thought that my NYE preparations this year would involve getting my wig washed. Yet here I am, writing this at a coffee shop down the street from the salon as I wait for my wig to be finished.
I have to end this list now because I’ve been hogging this seat at the coffee shop for two hours now and I’m afraid of the angry stares I’ll get from the owner unless I buy another coffee. I can’t drink anymore coffee because of over-caffeination, so for that reason, I must go!